Mason Bees - Osmia Lignaria

Mason Bees - Osmia Lignaria

By Abigail Pearson

Mason Bees - Osmia Lignaria

The bees were building my home,

A tiny home 

Beneath the trees on my grandfather’s hill.

The bees were dancing in my sleep,

Just below my eyelids

And every time I opened my eyes I cried.

The bees were mason bees,

Tiny workers, soft drones, brawny queens 

A monarchy built out of stone.

The bees would care for my home,

My heart 

Make me well again and let me sleep. 

The bees put on a show,

Offering spittle and nectar

Observing my reactions to my now finished home.

The bees are guardians,

They set up hives in the alcoves

And here I will live forever - buried on my grandfather’s hill. 


Abigail Pearson is a 22-year-old queer writer of novels and poetry. She has a black cat that she loves to cuddle with as she drinks tea and reads Dostoyevsky. Abigail has recently published a poetry collection titled A Mad Woman’s Voice and she has been published in Moonchild Magazine, The Slag Review and Cease, Cows. She resides in Eugene, OR.  You can find her on twitter @whimsywriter3

Bli Ayin Hara Are Words I Inherited

Bli Ayin Hara Are Words I Inherited

Two people with insecure attachment styles pushing one another away with defense mechanisms already built in childhood

Two people with insecure attachment styles pushing one another away with defense mechanisms already built in childhood